The White Crane
by Nim Fea Edainme
Summary: [movie based] Ichabod is still recovering a year after Katrina dies. Will he find love again?
1. Prolouge

Disclaimer: I do not own Sleepy Hollow, Ichabod Crane, or Katrina. I own Miss Olivia Winthrop, Cathrine Blanc, William Blanc, Isabelle Blanc, Francis Blanc, and Elizabeth Crane. They are of my creation, so you can't steal them.

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_January 2, 1810_

_Death. What a lonely, gruesome thing it is. That's what Constable Ichabod Crane thought after his love, thepretty Katrina, died with the fever. He could do nothing to help her. It pained him. How he wished he could've helped her. But he couldn't._

_Miss Katrina left a caring husband and a young daughter behind. She was a smart woman who would do anything to help her loved ones. She passed away two days ago, and the constable has yet to come out from Miss Katrina's room. He is in lament. Poor soul, he has already been though so much in his life. I've been taking care of Constable Crane's daughter, Elizabeth. Shehas quieted much since the death of her mother. I can't blame her. I hope the Crane's will find peace soon._

_-- Miss Olivia Winthrop, Nurse_

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A/N: Sorry this is so short. This is just the prolouge. 


	2. Drunken Death

Ichabod sighed, looking at the stars. It had been a year since Katrina had died and something still didn't feel right. His daughter, Elizabeth, had recovered since the death, but the unfortunate constable hadn't. He felt incomplete with out his love, but nothing could change. He blew out his candle and went to bed praying he wouldn't have to investigate any more deaths. He couldn't take it any longer.

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"Papa, wake up! Wake up, Papa! A telegram has arrived!"

Ichabod groaned, opening his eyes only to be blinded by the strong summer sun. He rubbed his eyes and stood, quickly pulling on his waistcoat. He stumbled out of his room to the front entrance. There stood a boy with a letter in hand.

"Here you go sir!" the boy piped handing him the letter, then holding out his hand. The constable turned, ignoring the boy's request for money. Elizabeth frowned.

"Papa," she said, shaking her head and giving the boy a coin.

"Thank you!" the boy said, hopping off. Ichabod opened the letter and moaned.

"I need a vacation."

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In a half an hour, Constable Ichabod Crane was at the murder scene, a scowl upon his face. He looked at the victim and sighed, his stomach churning. The victim lay sprawled out on the sidewalk, bits of bone, brain matter and other body fluids all around him.

"Either he was pushed off the building, or he committed suicide," he said, holding his handkerchief over his mouth and nose. He studied the position of the carcass.

"By the looks, he fell head first, which means he probably dove into the ground. Who found him any way?" Ichabod asked. One of the police officers at the crime pointed to a woman with two children, their backs to the corpse. The woman knelt down to hug one of the children. No doubt they were mother and children.

"Excuse me, Madame, but are you the one who found him?" he asked, tapping the woman lightly on the shoulder. She turned, wincing slightly at the body behind the constable. Her pale blue eyes were bloodshot, and tears were still on her cheeks.

"No," she whispered, "William did. He was ahead of Isabelle and me."

Ichabod nodded, noting the slight French accent.

"Did you know this man?" he asked. The woman nodded.

"Yes… He is… was our father," she whispered, closing her eyes. Ichabod blinked, dumbfounded.

"Y-your father?" he asked. The woman nodded.

"I was the result of his first marriage; Isabelle and William here are the result of the second. Their mother died when Isabelle was four and William one. Father turned to drinking and gambling after his second wife and now… Well, he killed himself so he wouldn't have to pay debt," she said, tears escaping from her closed eyelids to roll down her cheeks. She bowed her head slightly.

"Katie, is Daddy going to by alright?" the young girl asked. The woman named Katie bit her lip.

"_Non, ma petite. _But I hope he's in a better place now," she whispered. William looked up and hugged his sister's skirt.

"Its okay, Sissy, I'll take care of you and Izy!" he said, making Katie smile.

"Thank you William," she whispered. Ichabod smiled.

"I'll need your names and the name of the victim," he said.

"My name is Catherine Blanc. This is Isabelle and William. My father's name is Francis Blanc," Catherine said, with a nod. "Out of curiosity, what is your name, constable?

"Ichabod Crane. Pleasure to meet you, Catherine," he said, with a polite tip of his head.

"I suppose we should be going now. _Adieu, Monsieur Crane. _Perhaps I'll see you again_,"_ Catherine said, taking Isabelle's hand.

"Come on, William. William?" Catherine looked around and spotted William edging closer to the corpse. She ran over and snatched William up, placing him on her hip and scolding him. Ichabod smiled and then turned back to the body, nearly fainting in the process.

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**A/N: Catherine is pronounced the French way. You'd pronounce it CAT-treen. And for all of you who don't know French 'Non, ma petite' means 'No, my little one', and 'Adieu, Monsieur Crane' means 'Good bye, Mr. Crane.'**

**Thanks for all the reviews. I appreciate it. There will be a few more diary entries as the story progresses**.


	3. Church

Ichabod stepped into his small, unkempt garden. There were plants growing out of control, and he didn't know what half of them were. He hadn't even stepped foot in here since Katrina died. He sighed, leaning against the brick wall that incased the garden, letting his thoughts roam free. He thought of the woman he met yesterday. What was her name? Catherine. Yes. She was French, or at least knew how to speak the language. He sighed again, returning back into the cool shade of the house.

"Mr. Crane! Hurry up! We're leaving!" Jonathan called from the front hallway. Ichabod hurried to the door, grabbing a hat on the way. He followed Joseph and Elizabeth out the door and down the street to the church for Sunday Service. He only went in memory of Katrina and the events of Sleepy Hollow. Ichabod still believed in reasoning. But witchcraft was still possible. He sat down in a pew, waiting for the priest to start his long boring speech about God.

Ichabod looked about him, spotting a familiar woman sitting in the pew across from his. He smiled when she looked his way. A surprised look came across her face, but she smiled. She opened her mouth partially, as if she was going to say something, but the priest stepped up to the altar. She shut her mouth and turned her attention to the priest. Ichabod did the same, a bit disappointed. He tried his best not to fall asleep during the long duration of the service. The service ended, and the church goers filed out into the church courtyard where they lingered, the children playing.

"It is a surprise to see you here, constable," Catherine said, suddenly appearing on Ichabod's right side. Ichabod blinked and smiled.

"Well, I'm not really a religious man, but sometimes, religion is the best way to explain things," he said. Catherine smiled.

"Most constables don't come to church. They'd rather be inventing new torture devices," she said. She sighed, watching Isabelle.

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"My father was put into jail multiple times. He told me," she whispered. She closed her eyes briefly before opening them. She swayed slightly. Ichabod held her elbow.

"Catherine, are you alright?" he asked. Catherine's legs suddenly gave way and she fell. Ichabod crouched down next to her, looking around to see if there was anything that could've caused her to faint. Nothing.

"Must've been a thought," he muttered. William and Isabelle ran over.

"Sissy! Sissy! Are you alright?" they asked in unison. Isabelle took her sister's hand.

"Katie! Wake up! Please!" she said. A crowd soon formed around the fainted woman.

"Give her space to breath," Ichabod barked. Catherine stirred, her eyes cracking open. She raised a hand to her forehead.

"What h-happened?" she asked.

"You fainted," Ichabod said. He looked over her face. She frowned and sat up.

"Katie! You're alright! You scared us!" William said, hugging his sister. Catherine hugged him back and ruffled his dark hair.

"I'm sorry, _mes petits. _I don't know what made me do it," she said. Ichabod offered her a helping hand. She took it and stood.

"_Merci,_" she whispered, brushing off her dress. "We should be going now."

"Wait. I'll escort you home," Ichabod said. Catherine shook her head, sending her long dark hair flying.

"No. I am fine," she said. She suddenly swayed again. "On second thought, please. I must have caught something."

Ichabod nodded and hailed a cab big enough for himself, his daughter, the Blanc's and young Masbeth. He let the ladies climb in first, and then climbed in himself after Jonathan.

"Where will you be going?" The driver asked through the open door. Catherine murmured her home address. The driver nodded and climbed into the driver's seat taking the reins. The carriage lurched forward. Isabelle and Elizabeth started to talk. Ichabod looked at Catherine, who seemed oddly pale.

"What did you see that disturbed you so greatly?" he asked quietly.

"You'll think me mad," Catherine whispered.

"I have seen many strange things in this lifetime. Tell me," Ichabod said, with a small smile.

"I am… a medium," she whispered. "I saw a woman in a beautiful blue dress that was bloodstained. She was tortured by her husband. Her husband killed her with the Iron Maiden. She was connected to you some how. Her appearance was so sudden and grotesque, I fainted."

Ichabod felt the blood drain from his face and weak kneed. He looked down at his scarred hands.

"That woman… She was… my mother," he whispered, not looking up. He heard Catherine shift and place a delicate hand on his shoulder.

"I am sorry," she whispered. The carriage suddenly hit a pot hole, causing Catherine to fall onto Ichabod. She blushed furiously as she found herself clinging to him. She pulled away and looked out the window.

"Sorry," she murmured.

"No need to apologize. Most of the taxpayer's money goes into making torture devices," Ichabod said, with a small smile.

"How true," Catherine said. The carriage stopped. The Blanc's got out and waved good-bye. Ichabod watched silently as the carriage carted them off to home.

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**I feel so special! So many reviews. I know I'm making Ichabod a bit more masculine in this fanfic that he is in the movie. He was kind of... girly.**

**Ichabod: I'm not girly.**

**Err. Right. You're still hawt though.**


	4. Catherine Diary 1

_July 6, 1811_

_Dear Diary, _

_ I met Constable Crane again today after church. He is a nice reasonable man. Very handsome also. He's had a troubled past, from what I saw. The constable lost his faith at a young age after his mother was put in the Iron Maiden for disobeying the bible. How idiotic is that? _

_ I saw his mother. She was in a horrible state. She had puncture wounds all over her and what was once probably a very beautiful dress was bloodstained and torn. It made me faint. When I came 'round, there was a crowd around me, and Crane was sitting right next to me! After that, Mr. Crane escorted me home. During the ride there, I told him I was a medium, a possible mistake, but I couldn't help it. I am not a very good liar. Also, I fell on him. I thought I was going to faint again, but I didn't, thank goodness. _

_ Well, needless to say, I think I have a crush on the constable. I doubt I'll ever see him again though. _

_ William has fallen on the stairwell. I must go tend to him. _

_Sincerely, _

_Catherine_


	5. Financial Problems

Catherine hummed as she swept the hearth. Today Constable Crane was coming over for tea. The children were off at a friend's house. She jumped a little when the knock came and set the broom aside. She opened the door with a smile.

"Bonjour!" she said without looking at who ever was there. She glanced at her visitors. Her smile faded quicker than quick sand. "What is wrong, constables?"

"Hello, Ms. Blanc, I am Steven Smith. We are here to talk about your financial issues," a proper man said. Catherine nodded and stepped aside, letting the constables and other authorities. She sighed closing the door and leading the men to the table.

"Please sit," she said, her supposedly good day ruined. The men sat with her.

"What is your source of income, Ms. Blanc?" Steven asked.

"I have a small job at an inn and I sell some of my vegetables and herbs I grow in the market," Catherine replied looking down. "They don't bring in much, just enough to get us through our lives."

"But it is not enough to pay your taxes. Have you thought of going to a convent for help?"

"I cannot."

"Why?"

Catherine sighed. "My father insulted the nuns often and to the point where anyone who was related to him was banned from every convent."

"Marriage?"

"Who's going to marry a woman who looks after two younger siblings?"

"If you don't pay your taxes-" Steven was cut off by another knock at the door. Catherine stood and answered it. A wave of frustration hit her.

"I see you are not having a very good day also, Ichabod," she said in a soft voice.

"How did you know that?" Ichabod asked, stepping in. Catherine pointed to her head with a small smile. It didn't last; Ichabod's dark eyes were boring into her own. She broke down into sobs. Ichabod hugged her and tried to comfort her.

"I didn't know you were courting Constable Crane, Ms. Blanc," Steven said, appearing in the hallway. Ichabod glanced at Catherine and stroked her hair.

"Yes we are courting, for some time now," Ichabod lied. Catherine looked up at him, astonished. "We were talking about possible marriage."


	6. Acceptance

Catherine looked over the rim of her tea cup at Ichabod. His eyes were downward staring into his cup. He looked ashamed of what he did. She felt it. She knew. She wanted to hug him and tell him that he shouldn't be ashamed. She wanted to feel loved. She lowered her head and felt tears come to her eyes.

"Catherine?" Ichabod asked quietly. Catherine looked up.

"Yes?"

"About earlier…"

"I thank you… You've helped me in my time of need more than once. I don't know if I could ever repay you," she said, setting her cup on a table.

"Your welcome, but… I was thinking…"

"Perhaps you were thinking that you wish your lie to come true?" Catherine asked.

"In a less elaborate way, yes."

Catherine smiled and stood. She grabbed Ichabod's hands and pulled him up.

"Then I accept."

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A/N: Yes. Extremely short chapter. I know. It's late. But I like it.

For all of thee you read my POTC fanfic, I was reading the sequel to Magic In Us All and I don't know what I was on to create that. . . .


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